


Lumos Solem

by CampionSayn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Discrimination, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Next Generation, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-23 21:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4893550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CampionSayn/pseuds/CampionSayn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The more things change, the more they stay the same. Or so the saying goes. And never let it be said that there wasn't a saying that sometimes irked Rose Weasley more some days. OR: Rose was put into the badger house for a reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lumos Solem

There was no reason that Al should have been acting distant. Certainly James couldn't talk to him as often because Gryffindor and Slytherin, while more amicable over the years after the war, were still rivals, but Hufflepuff were regulars in class units to keep the animosity to a minimum so the cousins saw each other all the time.  
  
Plus, both Albus and Rose had Scorpius to even things out, so there should not have been this silently amassing wall building around Al over the last month that kept shutting people out and away from him. If anything, his personality should have been more open and more inclined to be out-going and not this timid little boy that Rose was beginning to fear he was shutting himself inside the skin of.  
  
Then there was an over-the-top Quidditch match and the tall first year Hufflepuff that preferred to stand on the ground to assist Madame Pomfrey in case of emergencies, rather than pen herself up in just one of the house towers to watch in the stands, understood perfectly.

* * *

Honestly, there weren't enough surprises in Quidditch that could keep Rose entertained for more than five minutes, but her older cousin slamming to the ground on account of a Bludger taking itself to his stomach with enough force to make it difficult for him to breath on impact were one of those things that got her attention and kept it.  
  
Al had not been far behind her when it took a while for James to get up, many adults rushing about, Pomfrey ordering the taller cousin to fetch some potions from the locker rooms to aid with breathing and crushed ribs. The Slytherins and Gryffindors overhead had been called to pause until the call was made, foul or allowed, on the assumed direction and purpose of the Bludger in question.  
  
Rose had gone to fetch the asked for supplies with the sight of Al crouched over his brother looking stricken and the Gryffindor team captain landing with the Slytherin captain just behind him.  
  
When she returned, James was blinking in confusion _(goggles nowhere to be seen and probably splintered on impact with the ground after they'd been lost, rendering his sight utterly useless)_ and leaning heavily on his forearms to steady himself. Both Quidditch team captains were jabbering so loud at the top of their lungs Rose and half the crowd couldn't have understood them if they'd tried and Professor Longbottom was trying to calm them down, Al standing behind him with his head bowed low and stains on his school robes that suggested someone had pushed him to the ground so he'd landed on his backside.  
  
The Slytherins had been sneering at James and the other Gryffindors right up until they had the wind taken out of them by some low remark Rose couldn't hear and by the time she was close enough and delivered the potions to Madam Pomfrey it was too late; Al had asked that she make sure James was alight and muttered something about heading to the library for some added studying. James hadn't stopped him or even called out, eyeing the blurry shapes in red that were his teammates with some look Rose wasn't quite familiar enough with.  
  
She hadn't liked it later when the commentary from Jordan in the stands made note on 'typical Slytherin behavior' and only Neville had the decency to chastise him.  
  
Slytherin caught the Snitch, twenty points ahead in the game already, but the cheering was minimal and the next day Rose and Scorpius found Al wandering around the lake trying to pretend he wasn't wearing a horrible glamour focused on his eyes. He also shared a rather meaningful look with Scorpius that clearly read 'don't you dare tell' that Rose figured out fast enough, but wouldn't press because while Al was headstrong and a little proud, he was also sensitive and broke down too easy.

* * *

So Rose began to plan.  
  
Finding the right spells were easy enough, as well as the materials that were required--Grandma Molly liked to prove herself an expert and Rose let her if she thought it could be useful. And the tips turned out to be a good thing when she kept sticking her fingers with needle points and pins and sometimes used the necessary spell in the wrong way.  
  
Asking for help about what to _say_ was a bit more trouble, but then, cornering Professor Snape in his portrait and offering him a ready excuse to find reprieve from all the other dead headmasters constantly milling about him turned out to benefit them both. His sarcasm on the subject was to be expected, but his surprise was rewarding in itself.  
  
Dumbledore seemed to want to help, finding them often in empty classrooms with her objective strewn around her and her wand providing light when curfew drew near and she didn't want to risk lighting a candle, but Snape usually shooed him out, saying something about it being a Slytherin matter and, "Why do you always want to meddle?"  
  
As much as she appreciated both of Al's namesakes wanting to help, she was grateful Snape kept Dumbledore out of it--from what she'd heard and read, he'd probably make this whole thing more complicated than it had to be. She was trying to go for obvious, after all.

* * *

 Al certainly hadn't been expecting such a large parcel that wasn't even made of paper or anything of the like from his parents, but then when he took the exceptionally heavy bundle from the Barn Owl he hadn't seen before—probably from one of the owlery from Diagon Alley—the TO: Al S. Potter was expected, but the FROM: was blatantly empty.

  
The reason why became obvious when the bird flew away back out through the entrance to the Slytherin common room and the package yanked itself out of his small hands. Paper spewing on the floor and ribbon burning itself to ash, surprising a few of the studying first years and drawing attention from many of the older students. Underneath the covers, the thing wriggled and writhed itself out to reveal a cloth banner with the Slytherin colors and a pair of the usual silver snakes in an eternity symbol around the very odd declaration

  
  
_~MOVING FORWARD~_

  
Al blinked repeatedly at the banner and, shaking off the blush starting to form because the other house members were staring at him even more than they usually did, he made to pick it up.  
  
The banner wasn't having any of that, though. It slid out from under his hand and spread flush out, stretching to the wall and hoisting itself up to hang onto one of the lance bearing suits of armor, as well as some other wall ornaments—thus completely attracting the attention of every person in the immediate vicinity.  
  
The Potter boy had turned a rather appealing shade of red along his face and ears by this point, quite a few of the girls in his year pointing at the offending object and him. Whispers started sweeping through the place, but were silenced when the snakes printed on the cloth blinked, and writhed from their first positions, flicking light colored tongues and distancing themselves to the corners and ends of the cloth when below the main word design, more words started appearing; silence, while not uncommon in this particular house, never seemed more brightly questioning.

  
  
_"Dearest students of the House of Slytherin, it has come to attention that many of you seem unsure of your place._  
  
_You don't know what you're doing. You don't know if you belong._  
  
_So here is the most honest truth that can be given without knowing everything, but appreciating what is available._  
  
_You are sometimes arrogant, you make mistakes, you seem pompous and a bit like a pack full of prats, which makes you human._  
  
_You are perfect."_

  
  
The banner let **that** sentence set into perfect emerald green calligraphy for a few seconds more than the rest of its messages, the little snakes slithering along the border taking a rest at the bottom to curl over each other and white out into albinos with black eyes and their tales shining like methane and oil canvas. Sedate Moss Green and Living Stardust Silver.

  
  
_"You are exactly where you're supposed to be."_

  
  
The final sentence unfurled from the center and outward, warm and exact, striking every Slytherin present as the words were permanent and didn't go away; snakes looking out at everyone and then appearing to be completely content, immobile and sleepy.  
  
The three Slytherin conditions known for the last thousand years glowed above the snakes and around the permanent sentence, but all the students stared in...something without disdain or arrogance...   
_  
PRIDE_   faded out into  _SELF-RESPECT_ ;  
  
_CUNNING_ produced the letters _RESOURCEFUL;  
  
_ And last, but certainly not least; _AMBITION_ bloomed beautifully into _HOPE_.  
  
Albus felt...warm. And maybe everyone else did, too, seeing that they just stared at the banner or moved back to what they were doing, trying not to seem like the words had meant anything.  
  
As much as Slytherin generations had tried not to feel either haughty or ashamed at being where they were—be they pureblood, or the half-bloods or still the rare muggleborn—it was a rare occasion when anyone or anything actually confirmed that they _should_ feel pride in the matter, by the highest of definitions.  
  
The middle Potter child had no idea how to react, kind of just watching the snakes as they curled over themselves and tried to settle in the new environment. He actually made the move to go to his bed and think on this surreal event, when his green eyes stopped on a piece of the wrapping that hadn't completely obliterated itself; a little scrap of square parchment that was attracted to him as well, as it moved to fly into his palm, docile print appearing much like the words on the banner had.  
  
But these words were for him alone and he couldn't stop his joy or tears or throat closing up if he'd tried.  
  
_'Al, try to feel better. And please remember: I am ALWAYS on your side._  
\--R. W.'

* * *

  
Nobody could tackle Rose. Maybe Teddy had come close a couple times, but she was a steadfast brick wall since she was a toddler and able to take her own steps. Now that she was taller than pretty much every cousin she had in her age range and a few that were older, it was impossible.  
  
She would not be knocked down.  
  
But she could be moved with enough force into taking a few steps back or even wobble.  
  
Al would think later in the day, after he'd spotted his Hufflepuff cousin in the Great Hall coming in for breakfast by herself and he'd just jumped out of his seat, ran over and had to launch himself off the ground just to get his stingy, rag doll arms around her neck to give her the most solid hug he could with his feet dangling off the ground—he would think that it was both the most embarrassing thing he would be remembered for, and that it was the most poignant thing he'd done since becoming the first Potter, ever, to become a Slytherin instead of a Gryffindor.  
  
She didn't bother to question what he was crying over, or what the constant repetition of _'thank you, thank you'_ was all about. That just wasn't what Rose did. She just hunched over enough so that Al was no longer hovering off the ground _(his black boots clicked on the solid floor next to her bare feet that signified a weekend as technically there was no rule about formal wear when classes weren't in session,)_ and half-strangling her and she smiled, hugging him back softly, hands rubbing his shoulders and deep red hair folding around him like his father's Invisibility Cloak.  
  
When Al finally stopped clinging and breathed in through his slightly clogged mouth and nose, she just handed him the handkerchief she carried around like her wand or her (much smaller than her mother's) usual stack of light reading and lead him back over to the Slytherin table.  
  
They started breakfast together and completely ignored the look James was throwing them from where he was stuffing his face with waffles and heart-attack inducing amounts of sausage and bacon; the other Slytherins surmised exactly why Albus was thanking the Hufflepuff and left the two of them alone. A few of the upperclassmen even gave her almost pleasant smiles when they made eye contact and then went back to their own meals like it wasn't such a big thing if a young ( _tall_ ) Hufflepuff was sitting with a bunch of snakes. A little splash of color and a little feeling of warmth; it was nothing.  
  
At the teachers' table, drinking tea and eating a very light toast, Professor Zabini protected his face so nobody would see his lips move as he eyed the cousins, read their lips and body language and confirmed what he'd been thinking ever since he'd visited the Slytherin common room to find a peculiar gift and gotten a silent, gloating brush-off when he'd asked Snape's portrait if he knew anything about it.

* * *

Thirty yellow balls of marble in the hourglass jar for Hufflepuff clinked down the minute breakfast ended. Some students on their way to Quidditch practice or to study in groups in the library barely looked at it--what was there to notice when Gryffindor and Slytherin were still leading at 376 and 352 respectively?  
  
However, a small group of characters in the painting for _Seven Centuries of Italian Nights_ , composed entirely of dead Headmasters, across the way from the point keeping jars made comment on it. Albus Dumbledore in particular gave a merry twinkle towards Severus Snape as he gave a not-quite-a-smirk as the Hufflepuff numbers climbed to meet Ravenclaw at 335.   
  
At the sound of motion and children chattering, however, he ducked out of the the painting's obvious view, trying to seem relaxed and keep his back to onlookers, as three particular first years walked down the hall, waving at the group they'd left as they made their way to Hagrid's, with the taller one trailing behind the shorter two so they wouldn't see her smile as the Slytherin grumbled in good humor, pretending that his eyes weren't still a little red and that his brother hadn't made the morning even more awkward by grabbing Scorpius at the Gryffindor table to get him to be a spy and ask if something was wrong. Poor first year, but at least Rose's reason for her meddling became clear when the blonde lion scurried over like James had threatened to light him on fire and the Slytherin table didn't heckle him or glare, but rather eyed Al and Scorpius each in their turn and left the three without comment or derision at their socializing like they usually would.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be part of the other Next Gen collective, but it stood vaguely well on its own. Like the Tower of Pisa, but still.


End file.
